Showing posts with label HTP Summer 2022 Rom-Com. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HTP Summer 2022 Rom-Com. Show all posts

August 22, 2022

HTP Summer Reads Blog Tour (Rom-Com Edition) Promo Post: Would You Rather by Allison Ashley

at 8/22/2022 12:30:00 AM 0 comments

Would you rather play it safe in the friend zone, or risk it all with a modern marriage of convenience?

Noah and Mia have always been best friends, and their friendship is the most important thing to them. Life is going great for Noah and he’s up for a promotion in a job he loves. But Mia’s life is on hold as she awaits a kidney transplant. She’s stuck in a dead-end job and, never wanting to be a burden, has sworn off all romance. So when the chance of a lifetime comes to go back to school and pursue her dream, it’s especially painful to pass up. She can’t quit her job or she’ll lose the medical insurance she so desperately needs.

To support her, Noah suggests they get married—in name only—so she can study full-time and still keep the insurance. It’s a risk to both of them, with jobs, health and hearts on the line, and they’ll need to convince suspicious coworkers and nosy roommates that they’re the real deal. But if they can let go of all the baggage holding them back, they might realize that they would rather be together forever.


Buy Links:






Mia Adrian stared at her phone screen, wondering what in the hell she’d just read.

Noah: Would you rather—text message edition. Daily messages with strange animal facts OR positive affirmations?

What kind of question was that? She frowned and leaned one elbow on the arm of her chair before tapping out a one-handed response.

Mia: ???

Noah: It’s a question. Would you rather receive daily animal facts or positive affirmations?

Mia: Um.


Mia: Neither?

Noah: Both it is.

Mia: Don’t you dare.

A banner appeared at the top of her screen, alerting her to a message from an unknown number.

When I breathe, I inhale confidence and exhale timidity.

She groaned and waited, hoping for some additional message that would give her instructions to opt out of whatever service he’d just signed her up for. Her gaze darted to her computer screen for a second, then back to the phone.

Nothing.

Would she seriously get something like this every day? How the hell was she supposed to stop them?

The text alert dinged again. Another unfamiliar number.

Elephants are the only animal that can’t jump.

She pressed a fist to her forehead.

Mia: I’m going to kill you.

Noah: Should have done it before you taped a banana under my desk. I’ve been wondering what the smell was for days.

She couldn’t help the laugh bubbling up, and glanced around to make sure no clients were around. Noah might be her best friend, but they teased each other at the office like elementary school rivals. She liked her job, but it was still work—and their games usually helped her get through until five o’clock.

This, though? This was her personal cell phone.

He’d taken it one step too far.

Mark my words, Noah Agnew. I’ll get you back for this.

Yet another chirp sounded, but this wasn’t a text message. It was the alert reminding her she needed to leave in fifteen minutes for her weekly infusion appointment.

She smiled at the thought that followed. Thursday meant a trip to the infusion center, but more importantly, it also meant chicken wings for dinner.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. What would it be today? Louisiana Rub? Lemon Pepper? Maybe she’d go wild and try the Mango Habanero.

They all sounded good—but which sounded best?

When it came to food—chicken wings in particular—Mia didn’t mess around.

“You’re thinking about chicken wings, aren’t you?”

Mia’s eyes popped open and she lurched to a sitting position. Noah stood on the other side of her desk, arms folded across his broad chest.

He had on the baby blue dress shirt. Blue always had been her favorite color on him—she’d told him so no less than fifty times. And yet he only wore the hue once a month, maybe not even that often.

She didn’t mention the ridiculous text messages. Best to let him think they didn’t bother her that much and get him back when he least expected it.

She flicked invisible lint from her black skirt. “It’s Thursday, is it not?”

“It is. But even if it wasn’t, I’d still know. Nothing else puts that look on your face.”

“What look is that, exactly?”

He slid his hands into his pockets. “Pure, unadulterated longing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Only every Thursday for the last nine years.” She leaned forward and dropped her elbows to the desk. “It’s your fault, you know. You’re the one who introduced me to them.”

Noah reached out and moved her nameplate several inches to the left. It drove her crazy.

No matter, she’d rearrange the items on his desk tomorrow morning before he came in.

“I didn’t know I was creating a monster.”

Mia laughed. “Too late for hindsight. Want me to bring some over tonight?”

“Sure.”

She didn’t have to ask what flavor he wanted. Noah was as consistent as her doctor’s appointments. When he found something he liked, he stuck with it. Long ago she’d noticed he usually ordered something he’d had before when they went out to eat, and once asked him why he never branched out.

“What if I try something new, and it’s not as good?” he’d said.

“What if it’s better?” she’d returned.

But he wouldn’t be swayed. Wasn’t worth the risk, he maintained, and she’d let it go.

She made a mental note to add a ten piece of plain wings to her order tonight, and swiveled aimlessly in her chair. “How’s your day been?”

“Boring. Full of client meetings, but you know that.”

“If not, I’d be the world’s worst administrative assistant.

Speaking of meetings, you’ve got one more in—” she checked her watch “—ten minutes.”

“I do?”

“Darcy Lane, here to discuss her new fitness center.”

“Right.” He put his palm flat on the desk and leaned in a little. His eyes brightened with excitement. “So I had lunch with my dad today.”

She smiled, ignoring the pang of jealousy at his casual mention of spending time with his dad. There was a time she and her parents got together for regular meals, too. Now, she couldn’t even remember the last time. “Yeah?”

“He’s going to announce his plans to retire. This week, probably.”

“Really?”

They’d been expecting it. Mr. Agnew had been dropping hints about retiring for the last three years. Mia didn’t blame him—he was in his sixties and had built an impressive architecture firm of fifty employees that had become known around Denver for modern, sustainable designs. He’d earned a break.

“Yep. Said the principals would look to promote one of the associates after he left.”

When Mia had started this job many years ago, it had taken her a while to learn the titles and hierarchy structure of architects at the firm. CEO, principal, associate, architect, intern…but eventually she’d gotten it straight.

Mia rubbed her hands together. “Which means a junior principal position will open up, and it will have your name on it.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t want them to pick me just because I’m the founder’s son.”

She snorted. “Son or not, you’re the best candidate. No contest.”

“Thanks,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. “I’d love the opportunity. And I know it would make my dad proud.”

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving an errant lock sticking straight up in the back.

“Noah,” Mia scolded. She stood and beckoned him to lean over. He obeyed and she smoothed his hair down, a ritual they performed at least twice a week. “Better.”

“Thanks.” He turned toward his office. “You’d better get out of here.”

“I will as soon as your three o’clock arrives.”

He started down the hall to his office just as Julia and David, both architects like Noah, came from the opposite direction.

Julia paused and flashed him a smile. “Hey, Noah.”

He offered a polite greeting but kept moving, and Mia scowled at his back. No matter how many times she brought it up, he always brushed off the suggestion Julia was interested in him.

Julia, looking poised and elegant in a gray dress and heels, veered off into the break room while David turned to where Mia sat. “I can’t find the Trodeau file.”

She blinked, disarmed by his clipped tone. She shouldn’t have been, though, because he always spoke to her like that. “Um, I thought I filed it last week. Did you check the black file cabinet?”

He looked at her like she’d just asked if he knew right from left. “Of course.”


“Oh. I’m sorry, I might have misplaced it,” Mia said, unease filling her stomach. Every time she messed up—which wasn’t often—it always seemed to involve David. The man thought she was a complete idiot. “I’ll find it.”

David just stood there and arched a sardonic brow.

Mia glanced to the side, then forced herself to regain eye contact. “I can’t do it right this minute, I’m about to leave—”

“Right,” David said disapprovingly. “It’s Thursday. Make sure it’s on my desk first thing tomorrow. It’s important.”

“Yes, I can do that. I’ll get it to you tomorrow.”

He didn’t reply and went back the way he’d come.

A subtle chime sounded, alerting Mia to a newcomer in the office. A young woman with long brown hair stepped into the foyer, and Mia stood.

“Good afternoon.” She smiled, trying her best to shake off the interaction with David.

The woman came forward. “Oh, hello. I’m Darcy Lane—I have an appointment?” It came out like a question.

“Yes, at three o’clock with Noah.” She should probably refer to Noah as Mr. Agnew to clients, but that had always been what she called Noah’s father. “I’ll just let him know you’re here. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee?” Serving and chatting with clients while they waited was one of Mia’s favorite parts of her job.

“I’m okay, thank you.” The woman sat in the chair farthest from Mia and pulled out her cell phone.

Guess she wouldn’t be one of the chatty ones, but that was probably best since Mia had to leave, anyway. She picked up her desk phone and hit number one on her speed dial.

“Client’s here?” Noah asked by way of greeting.

“Yep. Should I set her up in the conference room?”

“Not yet. I need a couple of minutes to get her stuff together. I’ll come get her when I’m ready, you need to head out.”

“Relax. I won’t be late.”

“You will be if you don’t leave now.”

“Okay, okay. See you tonight.” She hung up and locked her computer screen. Just as she was about to turn to the woman, she heard Noah’s voice and looked up to see his head poke around the corner.

“Darcy? I’m Noah. I’m just finishing something up, and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

The woman seemed stunned for a second as she looked at Noah, blinking several times. “Um, sure. Yes, that’s fine. I know I’m a little early.”

Mia smiled to herself. The woman had no idea how much Noah appreciated that. Tardiness drove him crazy.

“I look forward to our meeting.” Noah’s expression was polite and businesslike, and he ducked back into his office.

Mia forwarded her phone to the office manager and gathered her purse. She went around the desk and stopped in front of Darcy. “I have to head out for an appointment, are you sure there’s nothing you need before I go?”

Darcy’s cheeks were flushed. “No, thank you.”

This wasn’t the first time a woman had become flustered around Noah. The firm did mostly commercial design, and the majority of their clients were men. But occasionally women came through, and they’d had several female interns. It was quite clear the effect Noah had on women, even if the man himself was oblivious.

Despite their long-standing friendship, Mia could still admit her best friend was hot.

Really hot.


About the Author


Photo Credit: Ashley Porton Photography


Allison Ashley is a science geek who enjoys coffee, craft beer, baking, and love stories. When she's not working at her day job as a clinical oncology pharmacist, she pens contemporary romances, usually with a medical twist. She lives in Oklahoma with her family and beloved rescue dog.

Social Links:



June 8, 2022

HTP Summer Reads Blog Tour (Rom-Com Edition) Promo Post: A Proposal They Can't Refuse by Natalie Caña

at 6/08/2022 01:01:00 PM 0 comments


“My Big Fat Greek Wedding” but make it Latinx when a Puerto Rican chef and an Irish American whiskey distiller are blackmailed into a fake relationship by their scheming octogenarian grandfathers.

Ain’t nobody got time for octogenarian blackmail, especially Kamilah Vega. Convincing her parents to update the family’s Puerto Rican restaurant and enter it into The Fall Foodie Tour is quite enough on her plate, muchas gracias. And with the gentrification of their Chicago neighborhood, the tour looks like the only way to save the place. Too bad her abuelo made himself very clear; if she wants to change anything in his restaurant, she must marry the one man she can't stand: his best friend’s grandson.

Liam Kane spent a decade working his ass off to turn his family’s distillery into a contender. Now he and his grandfather are on the verge of winning a national competition. Then Granda hits him with a one-two punch: he has cancer and has his heart set on seeing Liam married before it’s too late. And his Granda knows just the girl... yup, you guessed it, Kamilah Vega.

If they refuse, their grandfathers will sell the building that houses their businesses, ruining all their well-laid plans. With their legacies and futures on the line, Kamilah and Liam plan to outfox the devious duo, faking an engagement until they both get what they want. But the more time they spend together, the more they realize how much there is to love. Soon, they find themselves tangled up in more than either of them bargained for.


BUY LINKS:

Amazon  |   Barnes & Noble  |  Bookshop.org  |  Book Depository 

 

Google Play  |  IndieBound  





Kamilah Vega stomped up the short entryway and yanked the heavy glass door open with more force than necessary. A strong wind, the type only ever experienced in Chicago, grabbed a hold of the door and pushed it back so roughly that it made a loud bang. The front-desk secretary jumped and gave her a dirty look, but Kamilah barely noticed. Her attention went immediately to the two bodies slumped in the love seat outside the director’s office.

She tried her best to keep the anger out of her voice because she already knew how the two troublemakers in front of her would react to it. “What did you do now?”

That garnered an immediate and very predictable response of “Nothing” from both occupants. It was a lie, of course. It always was whenever these two started claiming innocence in unison.

Kamilah rubbed both hands over her face and let out the type of deep and weary sigh that someone should let out at midnight after a hard and long day—not at eight thirty in the morning. She dropped her hands. “Don’t you think it’s time to stop with the shenanigans? You’re eighty years old, Abuelo.”

Her grandfather gasped in outrage at the mention of his age and scowled at her. His salt-and-pepper hair was sticking up all over the place like a fuzzy baby monkey, making him look adorable despite the baleful glare.

Looking decidedly more put together, even in his tattered denim overalls and faded flannel, Abuelo’s roommate and best friend gave her his own version of the stink eye. “You’re only as old as you feel,” Killian replied in his deep Irish brogue.

“And that means what? That you two feel twelve?”

Before they could answer, the door to the office opened, and there stood Maria Lopez-Hermann, the director of Casa del Sol Senior Living. “Hello, Kamilah. I’m glad you were able to come on such short notice. I know you were probably in the middle of morning prep at the restaurant.”

Kamilah didn’t bother telling Maria that after closing the night before, she’d slept through her many alarms and was late to work. Now, thanks to the two hooligans next to her, she was going to be very, very late. Her employers wouldn’t care about her excuses. It didn’t matter that they were her parents. Kamilah was a Vega and an employee, so her main responsibility was to the family restaurant. Always.

Maria motioned for them to enter her office, and they filed in. Kamilah purposely let Abuelo and Killian sit in the two chairs in front of Maria’s desk, while she stood behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders. It was the same stance her mami had taken the time she and her cousin Lucy had got in trouble for skipping gym class for two weeks.

Abuelo crossed one leg over the other and tucked his hands under his armpits, while Killian leaned back, spread his legs wide, and let his arms hang over the short back of the barrel chair. Kamilah once again marveled at their ability to look summarily unconcerned while she was sweating bullets, and she hadn’t even done anything.

Maria took a seat behind her desk and interlocked her fingers, resting them on top of her desktop calendar. “I thought I had made myself clear after the bird incident that being banned from pet therapy would be the least of your worries if there were any more pranks pulled.”

Kamilah closed her eyes and shook her head. It was a variation on what she’d said right before giving the Devious Duo a monthlong suspension from bingo for starting an illicit gambling ring; before that, there was a security-enforced curfew after the strip-poker fiasco. “What did they do now?” she asked, well aware that it was the third or fourth time she’d asked the question that morning and had yet to get a response.

“This morning we had two residents with high blood pressure show alarmingly high readings after breakfast. We did some investigating and found that Mr. Kane and Mr. Vega had snuck into the cafeteria last night and replaced the decaffeinated coffee grounds with fully caffeinated espresso.”

“Abuelo!” Kamilah exclaimed.

“They don’t have any proof it was us,” Killian interjected. “They just want to blame us for everything that happens in this godforsaken prison.”

“Prison,” Kamilah scoffed. “You two have more freedom than anyone else in here.” It was true. Because of their relatively good physical health and stable mental health, Abuelo and Killian didn’t require as much care as many of the other residents. It was more as if Casa del Sol were their college dorm rather than their senior-care facility. It didn’t help that the two tended to view the senior-living center’s strict rules as friendly suggestions.

“Your feelings aside,” Maria continued, “we do have proof. The cameras that we installed in the cafeteria and kitchen caught very clear images of you both.”

Abuelo softly damned the cameras. “Condenados cámaras.”

But Killian had other concerns. “You hear that, Papo? Freedom,” he harrumphed.

“They won’t even let me drink café con leche,” Abuelo added. “They give me light brown poop water and call it coffee.”

“It’s decaf with a splash of coconut milk, and your doctor says it’s better for your heart,” Kamilah pointed out. Abuelo’s doctor also said his congestive heart failure was very treatable as long as he took his meds, stuck to a heart-healthy diet, and remained relatively active. Of course, Abuelo paid him no attention.

As if on cue, Abuelo made a noise of disdain. “Ese doctor no sabe na’. Cuando me duele el pecho, me pongo un poco de Vaporú y ya.”

Kamilah sucked her teeth more at the claim that his doctor knew nothing than at the miraculous healing quality of Vicks VapoRub. All Latinx people knew Vaporú was the cure for everything from a common cold to heartbreak.

Abuelo looked at the director of the complex with petulance. “And when are you going to start serving carne frita con mofongo?” Abuelo continued, because apparently he was on a roll. “I’m sick of eating all these steamed vegetables like a damn rabbit.”

Maria leaned forward. “Mr. Vega, if you are so unhappy with Casa del Sol, you are welcome to find another living facility to reside in.”

Kamilah jumped in before her hardheaded grandfather could ruin the best thing he had going for him. “Maria, could I talk to these two alone for a few minutes before you lower the hammer?”

Used to their antics, Maria nodded her head and left the office.

Kamilah sank to her haunches between their chairs and waited until both men looked at her. “You guys have to stop this,” she said in her voice of reason tone. She placed a hand on each of theirs. “I don’t have time for you to be staging weekly high jinks like you’re the Little Rascals. I can’t be here all the time making sure that you don’t get kicked out.”

Abuelo turned his face away. “Nobody told you to come act like our mother.”

Killian nodded. “We are grown men.”

“Bullshite,” a deep voice sneered from too damn close, startling Kamilah right as she felt a presence looming over her.

A girl who grew up on the West Side of Chicago and with four tormenting older brothers knew to strike first and ask questions later.

“Not today,” Kamilah declared in her You-Messed-Withthe-Wrong-Bitch voice, spinning around in her crouched position, morphing into famous Chicago heavyweight champion Ernie Terrell, and swinging her fist at her would-be attacker’s crotch.

The moment her fist connected with the very sensitive part of the man’s anatomy and she heard his pained “Son of a bitch,” she knew she’d made a grave mistake.

Oh dear God, no. Not him. Please don’t let him be here.

Meanwhile, Tweedledum and Tweedledee laughed their asses off like a pair of demented hyenas.

When he fell to his knees, Kamilah suddenly found herself face-to-face with the exact man she’d just prayed wasn’t there.

Big, broad, and brooding, Killian’s grandson didn’t resemble him in the least. Where Killian had a round face and wide nose with a bit of a hook at the end, Liam looked like something conjured out of the tie me up and spank me books her sister-in-law was always reading. His face was all sharp angles, set off by dark stubble, a stern mouth, and cool eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” He wheezed. “You can’t just go around dick-punching people.”

The hyenas laughed harder.

Kamilah’s jaw dropped. “What’s wrong with me?” she asked, incredulous. “What’s wrong with you, coming up on me like that? You don’t sneak up on a woman and expect not to get junk-punched. Especially not a woman born and raised in Humboldt Park.”

His French-blue eyes narrowed under dark brows. His nostrils flared while he inhaled deeply. That was Liam speak for I’d really like to tell you off right now, but not going to engage.

Kamilah saw that look often. Whatever. He pissed her off too.

“She has a point, lad,” Killian said, the amusement still thick in his voice. “You deserved that whack to the wanker.” He stood and pulled his grandson to his feet.

Kamilah found herself once again eye level with Liam’s crotch. She quickly stood and turned away from him, her face flushing with embarrassment. She met Abuelo’s gaze.

He arched his brows. “Nena, aren’t you going to apologize to him?”

“Me? Apologize to him?” Kamilah let out an incredulous bark of laughter. “He should apologize for sneaking in here and scaring me.”

“He didn’t sneak. The door was open.”

Kamilah didn’t answer. She should own up to her part and apologize, but her pride wouldn’t let her. Pride was the only thing protecting her from Liam. She couldn’t let it go now.

Liam stared, expressionless. Then he ignored her comment completely. “Granda, what did you do now?”

Kamilah hated when he ignored her.

Killian opened his mouth, but Liam cut him off. “And don’t say nothing, because I know you better than that.”

Before Killian could come up with a story, Maria walked back into the office. “They threw away all of the decaf coffee and replaced it with Café Bustelo espresso.”

“What the hell, Granda? You are willing to get kicked out of this place over coffee? Seriously?”

“It’s not the coffee. It’s the principle,” Killian replied, his nose in the air.

Liam threw up his hands and let out a sound of exasperation. “What principle? That the people you pay to take care of you actually take care of you?”

Killian crossed his arms. “You don’t get it because you’re young.”

“I don’t get it because it’s nonsense. Granda, where do you plan to go if you get kicked out? You sold your house to move in here with Papo.”

At the mention of the house he once shared with the love of his life, Killian’s face fell. That had been his wife’s dream house, and Kamilah had always suspected that he hadn’t really been ready to sell it.

“If you get thrown out, you can’t live with me, Granda.”

That was too much. Kamilah certainly wasn’t in agreement with their troublemaking, but Liam didn’t have the right to speak to his grandfather that way. Not after all Killian had done for him. “Because God forbid Super Loner Liam has to allow someone into his hermit cave.”

He turned on her. “Excuse me?”

“I’m saying that if they did get asked to leave, which we don’t know is going to happen, it wouldn’t kill you to let your grandpa move in with you. That’s what family does.”

“I was referring to the fact that he can’t walk that many stairs anymore, but I guess, as the almost thirty-year-old woman living with her parents, I should take your word on that other stuff.”

Kamilah scowled. He didn’t have to bring up her living situation like that. “It’s interesting, isn’t it? It’s like it’s not a big deal for us, because I’m not a miserable person who is extremely difficult to be around.”

Liam scowled at her. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like, off making someone else’s day shitty?”

Rude. Her pulse sped up. “I usually would, but since I already started with you, I can check it off my to-do list and it’s not even ten o’clock. Thanks a bunch.” She added a sweet smile.

“Glad to be of service.”

“Would you two just get a room already?” Killian said. Liam turned his dark look on his grandfather, and she made a disgusted noise.

“What?” Killian shrugged. “All I’m saying is you two fight like a couple.”

“Yeah.” Abuelo added his two cents. “You should just get married already.”

There was a beat of silence, and then both octogenarians’ eyes lit with the same mischievousness. The kind that had no doubt led to all of them being in their current situation.

You know what? Let’s get back to the reason we are here.” She faced Maria. “They may not look it, but I know Abuelo and Killian are sorry for the danger they put their fellow residents in, and next time they will think more about the consequences before they do something so incredibly stupid.”

Maria let loose a world-weary sigh, much like the one Kamilah had released earlier. She gave a small eye roll while shaking her head because they both knew Kamilah was full of shit. “Their cafeteria privileges have been revoked for the next two weeks. Prepackaged paper-bag meals will be sent to their apartment, or their families will have to provide their meals for them.”

“Is that supposed to be a punishment?” Abuelo asked.

“With the stuff they serve here, it feels more like a rew—”

Kamilah covered his mouth with her hand. “That seems totally fair.” In her head she was freaking out because she just knew she was going to be the one providing said meals, and she did not have the time for all that. “I’ll make sure they get fed.” She felt Abuelo’s mouth curve behind her hand, and she saw Killian’s pleased smile. “Don’t get too happy,” she warned. “You think they denied you? Just wait to see what I have in store. When I’m done with you, you are going to wish you could eat rabbit food.”

They were completely unfazed by her threats. Probably because they knew Kamilah was a crème brûlée—right below a crackly hard surface, she was really just pudding.

Echoing her thoughts, Liam scoffed. “As if you aren’t going to end up making them three-course meals complete with dessert.”

Kamilah fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him like a six-year-old. Instead, she ignored him. “I have to go to work, but for the love of God, please behave yourselves today,” she begged the duo of deviants.

She was almost positive she heard Killian mumble, “We make no promises.”



Excerpted from A Proposal They Can’t Refuse by Natalie Caña. Copyright © 2022 by Natalie Caña. Published by MIRA Books.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Natalie Caña writes contemporary romances that allow her to incorporate her witty sense of humor and her love for her culture (Puertominican whoop whoop!) for heroines and heroes like her. A PROPOSAL THEY CAN'T REFUSE is her debut novel.


SOCIAL LINKS:

Website  |  Twitter  |  TikTok
 

The Consummate Reader Copyright © 2010 Designed by Ipietoon Blogger Template Sponsored by Online Shop Vector by Artshare